The Question that Begs an Answer
by Luxor-DestroyerOfWorlds
Summary: JD thinks about why he allows Dr. Cox to humiliate him the way he does. Sorry about the sucky summary, rated M for content; don't like don't read. It's that simple. Okay, I know I wrote 'Percy'. I wanted JD to have a name for Cox that was all his own, since everyone else calls Cox 'Perry'. Percy. Percy. Percy. It is JD's pet name for him in this fic


**Oneshot**

''Spread your legs a little wider…''

I don't know why we do this, or better yet, why I continue to let him humiliate me this way. The truth could be the answer I'm continually searching for—that I'm completely and utterly addicted to it. As much as I hate myself for it, as much as I say I want this to end, I know that as long as he gives me that certain look and crooks his finger I'll come running.

We both moan as he slides inside of me, my knees bent and pushed down near my ears from where he was pushing down on them to the point of pain, positioning me in the way he likes for the best thrust. It's one of my favorite positions too.

''God Newbie,'' he groans quietly, so that it sounds more like a guttural growl, pulling back before slamming back in with enough force to shove me back on the desk, hitting my head against the wall with a dull thump.

We're trying to be quiet, or at least, I am. When we're both swamped with work at the hospital I have to be on guard at all times or I'll be cornered in a random room, deserted hallway or even the elevator. Today it was Percy's own office. On his desk. Which, I might add, had once been covered in patients' files and other paperwork that kept the hospital running.

I bite down hard on my hand until I taste the faint copper of blood, but even then it only muffles my moans slightly. I try to keep my eyes closed-try to pretend this isn't happening, that I don't love it so much-because if I open them, I know what I'll see.

I'll see Chief Dr. Cox staring down at me with the most beautiful green eyes, I'll see his lips pulled back in something that resembles a grimace, his teeth clenched as he groans and grunts with each move we make. I'll see his muscled arms bulging as he grasps the backs of my knees, pushing them down as far as they'll go, and even then he'll continue to drive them down so that pain mixes with pleasure.

He likes hurting me, always has. Not so much as the Janitor; Percy doesn't want to see me cry. Or, at least, I don't think he does.

Percy has always been forceful. Like the very first time he'd cornered me. That had been the second month since I'd returned to Sacred Heart and integrated myself back into the old team with Carla, the new head nurse, Elliot, and Turk.

I'd been so confused, answering what I thought was a simple page only to find an empty bed, sans one patient. Then I'd been slammed into the wall, Percy's lips scorching mine, and the rest, as they say, is history.

''_P_…_Percy_,'' grunt, ''_more_,'' I beg, against my better judgment. He has a way of breaking me down, to the point where I can't even remember why I should resist him.

This was the moment he'd been waiting for. I can practically hear his control snap, and instead of the smooth, practiced strokes he'd been making earlier, he begins to pound senselessly into me. I scream, bite harder into my hand, but he won't let me, not now that I've admitted I want him. Percy releases one of my legs and rips my hand away. I bite my cheek instead but he roughly grabs my chin and forces me to look at him as we both become more frenzied.

_Don't open your eyes. Don't open your eyes. Don't open—_

But of course I do, and I see all I expected and more.

Affection. Rage. Pain. Sadness. Self-loathing. Tenderness. I can see the emotions play across my face, reflected by his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that always saw more than I wanted them too.

''Don't you dare look away,'' Percy growls angrily, squeezing my chin until I whimper from the hurt. I can feel a tingle at the base of my spine, signaling I'm close. He can see it in my face, I know he can, because his frenzied thrusts become even more choppy, hurried as we race towards the end, both unsure who would make it to the finish line first.

Without my permission my mouth opens, small moans growing in volume and length, saying without words that I'm almost there. I hate how much I sound like a woman. If anyone could hear us, though I pray to God they can't, they would think Cox had a woman with him in the room. Probably Jordon.

And just like that, I'm reminded of one of the many reasons why this is so wrong. His wife. His son and daughter. _His family_.

It doesn't stop me from doing it again, though, it never does. It only makes me hate myself a bit more.

''Per—_Percy_,'' I cry, grasping his shoulders tightly and digging my nails into his skin as I come, covering his lower chest and mine with my semen. Our eyes are locked as he continues to fuck into me before he stiffens, the veins in his neck standing out as I feel a rush of warmth deep inside of me and he utters my name on those perfect, soft lips.

I'm little more than a rag doll, and Percy seems frozen above me, our heavy breath the only sound in the room. Slowly, with extreme care and gentleness, he pulls out of me and slips off the desk before looking down at me with that familiar unreadable expression. I don't even bother trying to move, my body deliciously sore from our lovemaking. This is my favorite part, the few miniscule minutes after the mindless fucking, before the disgust starts to settle in.

The moment where we simply look at each other, too spent to do anything more.

It ends when I notice the clear-white goop sliding down his abdomen, and I feel similar fluid sliding out from inside of me. Then the self-loathing and disgust starts to flow through my veins and I lift myself from my place of shame.

We get cleaned up and then redress in silence. I don't look at him, but I can feel his gaze on me. I want to scream out my frustrations, want to ask him why me, why now? Doesn't he have Jordon? Doesn't he care about his children? Does it matter to him at all that I don't want this, don't want the constant lies, sneaking behind my friends' backs?

He leaves first. I wait a few minutes and follow. My ass hurts, and I know I'll be standing at lunch today, but my heart is pleasantly numb, the way I purposely keep it on a regular basis. Not for the first time, I consider leaving Sacred Heart for the second time, maybe medicine altogether, but I know I can never do that. I love my job and I love Sacred Heart. The six years I'd been away were long and boring, I hadn't made the tight bonds at that other hospital like I had here. I couldn't leave.

The biggest question of all, the one I ask myself at least three times a day: Why do I let him do this to me? Maybe the truth is the answer I've been looking for this entire time.

I love him.


End file.
